Sydney Prescott

"I uh.. Chocolate milkshake I guess." He said with a small shrug that raised and lifted his shoulders, visibly wincing from the movement against his ribs and just closing his eyes as he got through the initial shock of pain. He slowly opened them again as he remembered that he was in public and that Sydney was still standing beside the table. He offered her up a small smile as his gaze dropped back to the table, his left leg bouncing slightly, he hadn’t had any intention of even winding up at this cafe, really he’d wanted to avoid it in chances of seeing anyone he knew and yet he had still ended up there and had been seen by the only girl he knew that didn’t like him, which normally wouldn’t bother him except the fact that a small part of him wanted her to like him and now she was seeing him all bruised up.

Sydney rolled her eyes at Preston's comment about being able to pull the new look off, unsurprised by the return of his usual remarks, though the lack of conviction behind it was startling. Sure she thought he needed to be taken down a few pegs, but not like this. She nodded and began to take down his order, but promptly stopped when she noticed his wince, pain evident in his expression and ginger movements. "One chocolate milkshake, coming up" she said when he opened his eyes once more, pretending not to have noticed the little break he's taken from reality.

His mind tried to rationalise the way he was feeling. The fear for his life, fear of reliving an instance that had changed things for him. The anger of letting it happen again. Annoyance at the constant hovering of his family. Pain from his injuries. Sadness because no matter what he did, his past seemed to catch up to him. Though the step between rationalisation and belief of it was a step Preston had yet to take. His attention was only brought back to the fact that he was sitting openly in a cafe when he heard someone -no not just someone, Sydney- speak to him. He lifted his gaze to look at her and gave her a small, half smile, “Thought I’d try something different” He stated yet his tone was missing every bit of cockiness it usually held. What was the point in being cocky when he knew he looked like shit?

Sydney cocked an eyebrow, surprised when Preston looked up at her and spoke, all his usual cockiness missing from his expression and voice. She certainly didn't miss the attitude but at the same time, its absence unnerved her more than the bruise did. Whatever had happened to him, it must have shaken him up pretty badly if he wasn't even up to keeping up his usual antics. "It's definitely different" she agreed, expression uncertain. She was used to dealing with Preston's usual behavior, but this was completely new territory. What was she supposed to do now? She somehow doubted Preston would want her pity, but at the same time it didn't feel right to kick him when he was so clearly already down.

Although it had been a couple of days since the entire incident happened, Preston’s mood had barely lightened. He tried not to snap at his brothers when they pried and asked if he was doing okay but the mix of feelings he felt just ignored the logical side of his brain. Instead of spending another day locked up in the penthouse, Preston had quietly left. He had taken a couple pain killers before leaving yet that didn’t kill all the pain he felt from his cracked and bruised ribs. His black eye had dulled down yet was still noticeable at a close distance and his lip was healing rather fast.

How I’d love to know what is happening with this weather. One day close to 90 degrees, and the next mid fifties. I’m going crazy, between sweaters and tank tops here!

try I highly doubt you could do it. I hope you know I skipped over the next bit… You started to sound like my history teacher. But as a matter of fact, I know problems just don’t go away, people just push them away because they don’t know how to deal with them yet. Have you not being paying attention? I don’t want you scared of me, Syd. Except you’ve already devoted enough of your memory to remember that it has been deflated so you pretty much already remember the few times it’s happened.

And I know I could, but that's irrelevant. Then again maybe not, you might be too in love with yourself to have room for getting wrapped around anyone's finger. Yeah, I know you don't; you want me to fawn over you. And not really, there's a difference between remembering that an incident happened and remembering the details.

love to see you try to wrap me around your finger, Prescott. Most normal people don’t want to talk about that stuff. I think you just don’t want to admit it because you’re scared you’ll be shot down. When I deflate my ego? Tell me exactly when that’s happened?

You don't have to. It's personal information and it's up to me whether or not I share it with you, whether or not you think it's your concern. And I'm sure you would love to see that, but like I said, I'm really not interested. I never said I want to talk about that stuff, but the fact that nobody wants to talk about it is exactly why it's important. Problems don't just go away by sweeping them under the rug, you know.  For the millionth time, I'm not scared- not of you, anyway. There are precious few things in this world I'm afraid of, and you're definitely not one of them. Yes, when you deflate your ego. It's rare, but it's happened... two or three times, I think? Not for more than a few seconds at a time, but that's when you're at your most tolerable. I would tell you exactly when, but that would require having devoted far more of my memory to our conversations than I have.

Because it's really none of your concern. If I wanted you, I'd already have you wrapped around my finger; we'll just leave it at that. No? Probably because I really only talk about those kinds of things around people who I can have serious conversations with. And see I could admit either of those things, but that'd make me a liar. Especially the ego one, considering the fact that you're a lot easier to deal with on those rare occasions when you deflate it.

This is not how I flirt, ask anyone. Hmm, I dunno. It definitely couldn't have to do with that ego of yours- which by the way, just because I mention it doesn't mean I like it. I also mention war, genocide, rape, homophobia, and racism, you know. Admittedly I like your ego better than all of those things, but that's really not saying much. 

Flirting? Is that what you think this is? I was right, you really do need a dictionary. Uh, no. Trust me, I definitely don't enjoy your massive ego on any level, and I'm pretty sure you're confusing what you want for what I want. 

Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. Mainly because believe it or not I really don't think you're worth gossiping about, but I digress. Hmm, I don't think I've told you you're full of it yet today, so thanks for the reminder. You're full of it, you know that?

have to talk to me. I’ve just come to the conclusion that you love it because you always talk to me. You don’t seem to understand that love means something different to everybody.

Yes, actually. Hmm... for you, that was surprisingly deep. Whatever definition of love we're going with though, I don't love talking to you. I guess I don't mind it all the time though, so that's progress.

I don't know, nor do I particularly care. Good, though I must admit having the excuse to not have to talk to you would be nice. Do you need a dictionary or something? You seem to be laboring under a false impression of what the word love means.

There's a difference between being flattered by something and actually wanting it to happen and trust me, this is a perfect example of that difference; I'd definitely be way more creeped out and grossed out than flattered. So do me a favor and kindly don't let me know if I ever make an appearance, got it? I mean, assuming you ever want me to talk to you again after.

Wow Syd.. Do you want me to dream about you?

Ew, no thanks. Can you not read or something? I literally just said it would be creepy.

I'd certainly hope so. I mean not that I wouldn't be flattered, but I'd really rather things not hit that level of creepy. Well, at least you stick to your guns. That's something, I guess.

Ha, in your dreams. And yeah, well they say that the first step to solving a problem is admitting it's an issue, and I figure if it gets pointed out enough maybe one day it'll get through your thick skull and talking to you will be slightly less of a headache.

That's cute. First of all, I can eat as much as I want. Second, ego much?